


The Dawn of the Good Old Days

by AbsolutelyNotAlex



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Confessions, Hotel rooms (get your mind out of the gutter), M/M, Mostly Fluff, Teen and up because of that one f bomb, starrison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 09:55:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20274028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbsolutelyNotAlex/pseuds/AbsolutelyNotAlex
Summary: George and Ringo share a room, and confessions are made.For goodluckband, the first person to ever comment on one of my works.Starrison Big Bang 2019





	The Dawn of the Good Old Days

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goodluckband](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=goodluckband).

“Rochambeau?” John asked.

“Fine.” Sighed Paul.

“Paper, scissors, rock.” The two chorused.

It was a draw. 

“You know Paulie, one of us is going to have to pick something other than rock.”

John, Paul and Ringo stood in a circle, trying to figure out who would share a room with the newest band member. Whoever lost the game would have to share with him, and though he wouldn’t say it, it bothered Ringo just a little. The drummer as shaken out of his trance by the duo having another draw. As if on cue, George walked over holding the keys to two rooms.

“Good lord, you two,” he griped, seeing what was going on. “Here.” He tossed John a key, and motioned for Ringo to follow him. When they got to the room, there was a surprise waiting for them. 

“There’s only one bed.” Ringo stated blankly. 

“So there is.” George said, seemingly not bothered by the situation. 

Ringo marvelled at George’s lack of concern, and tried to calm himself down. He was going to share a bed with George Fucking Harrison, and everything was going to be fine. 

“You alright, Ritchie?” The guitarist asked.

It took him a moment to realize that he hadn’t said anything, so in lieu of an actual answer, he blurted, “I can sleep on the floor.”

“Yeah,” said George, “you can, but you’re not going to.” And with that, he walked into the bathroom to change. Ringo changed his own clothes while he was waiting. When George emerged, he crossed his arms over his now bare chest. 

“Are you really going to sleep in a t-shirt? You’ll melt.”

The drummer shrugged, blushing madly. “‘S fine.”

“You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about.”

Knowing George was right, Ringo pulled his shirt over his head. George turned around to put the rest of his clothes away, and Ringo had the urge to run his fingers through the boy’s dark mop top. He’d been pining after George since he’d joined the band, occasionally even dropping subtle hints, but the daft git had always just passed it off as Ritchie being friendly. If he’d look harder though, he’d see that those comments were reserved or him and him alone. Something in the back of his mind told him that Ringo should confess to George. He knows that part of him is right, get it over with. Face the rejection instead of constantly fearing it. He’d long since taught himself not to hope for the alternative. It would just leave him miserable in the long run. But then, Ringo thought, so would either of the other options, so what was the point of it all? 

When he turned, he noticed that George had sat down on the bed and was picking up a book. 

“What’s that?” He asked.

“A book.” George playfully hit Ringo in the stomach with the aforementioned book, and Ringo, deciding to test the waters, dramatically fell back into George’s lap. He waited for the other boy to move, or tell him to get off, but he didn’t. He just opened the book and rested his hands on Ringo’s chest as if to say, ‘If you’re not moving, I’m using you as an armrest.' They stayed like that for a few minutes before Ringo sat up to face George. 

“Georgie,” he started, voice breaking horribly. “Can I tell you something?”

Sensing it was serious, George put the book down and looked at Ringo. “Of course.” 

“Before you end up hating me, I just wanted to say that this band has been one of the best things to ever happen to me.”

“Whatever you have to say, I’m not gonna hate you.”

“Well the thing is… So I sort of- I’m… I have- Dammit this is hard… I’m in love with you.” As soon as the words came out of Ringo’s mouth, he regretted it. A wave of… _ something _ passed over George’s face, but he couldn’t quite make out what it was. It felt like years had passed, but in reality it was only about half a second before George spoke.

“Really?” It was hard to gauge his tone, difficult to tell if he was hopeful, angry, disappointed, disgusted, happy, or anything at all. It was just a question.

“Y-yeah…”

“Me too.”

“You don’ have to say that to make me feel better, y’know.”

“Ritchie, look at me.” 

Ringo finally met his eyes, and was surprised when George pulled him in so close that their foreheads rested against each other. 

“You can touch me, you know.”

Hesitantly, Ringo’s hands came up to George’s face, and to his astonishment it was George who closed the gap between them. They kissed softly, and Ringo wrapped his arms around George, burying his face in his shoulder. George just rubbed his back absentmindedly. It was a while before either of them spoke. 

It was Ringo who broke the silence. “This…” he trailed off.

“This what?” George hooked a finger under his chin and tilted his face up so they could look each other in the eye. 

“I guess this feels a little like the dawn of the good old days.”

“What do you mean?”

“The band is great an’ all, y’know? But I feel like this is. Like this will be what I think of when I think of the good old days.”

“Mmm.” George agreed sleepily.

The pair decided that was a good way to end the conversation, so they laid down and pulled the covers over themselves. Ringo laid his head on George’s chest, and that was how they stayed. 


End file.
